


The Perils of Thirty Year Old Gossip

by strangehighs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, First Love, Gen, Gossipy Teachers, Humor, Matchmaking, Post-First War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangehighs/pseuds/strangehighs
Summary: Severus finds out more than he signed up for in one gossip session at the teacher's lounge.
Relationships: Eileen Prince & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall/Eileen Prince
Comments: 70
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

Peace and quiet were considered luxury articles in Hogwarts. Hundreds of teenagers, each one possessing barely controlled magical powers and a collective count of three brain cells, locked up in a castle in the middle of scottish nowhere would be expected to have that effect on one's daily routine, but _goddamn, some days_ …

Some days it took every bit of his already scarce self control to not strangle at least one of the little cretins. 

So when Severus arrived, on a day with no less than two blown cauldrons and a full on fist fight in one of his classes, at the miraculously empty, _silent_ , staff room right before dinner, he could’ve wept tears of joy. Despite it being the middle of winter the room was pleasantly toasty, just what he needed after the blasted cold dungeons that made all Warming Charms sputter and die on the spot. Fuck Salazar Slytherin and his fucking gothic tendencies, honestly.

Practically skipping to the enormous hearth, he forewent his usual place by the window for one of the sumptuous armchairs by the fire, turning frost stiff hands as close as he could stand without being burnt. As he watched blue fingertips slowly reverting to their normal color, Severus couldn’t help but think that Slytherin’s choice of accommodations, besides not making any sense with his overall snake themes, was an early attempt at natural selection, since placing children in this buggering icebox purposefully could only mean he wanted at least a few of them dead.

Now sufficiently warm, he burrowed deeper into the armchair, sinking back with a sigh. They were so much more comfortable than those near the window he felt almost tempted to sit here more often. If it didn’t mean being closer to the others and forced to socialize, that is.

The door banging open put a swift end to his musings.

"But I could swear I heard you say, in more than one occasion, mind you, that it wasn’t a dignified enough sport to bother with, Minerva."

Filius squeak of agreement to Pomona’s teasing meant _at least_ three intruders to his short lived peace. There was only one way this could possibly get any worse, Severus thought, rubbing his temples, but at least he wasn’t likely to be free at this tim-

"Well, you were always too restless and physical, even as a child, my dear," said the odiously cheerful voice. "So I can see why gobstones wouldn’t appeal to you. Except for the dousing the opponent in stinking sap part, of course."

The bright lime green robes came flashing into his sight, as the Headmaster approached the hearth. The others kept bantering near the tea set readied by the elves, while Severus slouched even further into the upholstery, head throbbing with a chant of _goawaygoawaygothefuckaway_. The blue eyes flashed to his direction, and his cover was blown to smithereens. 

"It’s so good to see you here so close to the others, Severus!" Albus sat on the other chair just by his own, primly gathering his _disgustingly_ shiny robes about himself. "I know you enjoy your peace and quiet, and being by yourself, but it’s nice to mingle sometimes. Oh, don’t grumble, it’s unbecoming and you know it. Thank you, my dear."

After delivering the Headmaster’s tea, Pomona turned to him with an amused glint in her eye. 

"You see Severus, our dear Minerva here was complaining about her House losing the first two matches of the Gobstones League, spectacularly might I add."

He turned to look at the old cat, sitting very straight and proper with her teacup beside Filius. Her pursed lips were the only outward sign of her annoyance. _Hmm._ Interesting. He beckoned Pomona to continue with an arched eyebrow.

"But you see," she continued, with renewed mirth at his encouragement. "All these years I was under the firm impression that she _never_ cared about gobstones. That she considered it, and here I’m quoting you directly, _dreadfully boring_ and a perfectly worthless pastime for anyone over the age of ten. And yet..."

She trailed off, wagging her eyebrows with a smirk at her colleague’s discomfort. Albus was hiding a smile into his cup, watching the fire crackling.

"She’s right, you never gave a shit about gobstones." His words interrupted the beginning of Minerva’s no doubt vehement and totally credible defense. She glared at him maliciously and he knew he’d pay for it somehow later. No matter, he grinned at her, it was definitely worth it. "I’d say you’re just a sore loser."

Filius choked on his tea laughing. Despite not playing in more years than he could remember, Severus had a soft spot for the silly game. It was one of the little things his mum shared with him when he was young and he couldn’t think badly of it, for her sake. Minerva launched into her self defense, and he tried to tune them all out. The warmth of the fire and the difficult day made him sluggish in no time, and he let himself fall into a little doze. 

"But I seem to recall you had no qualms against the sport in school, at least not against the _players."_

Startled out of his rest by Filius’ curious remark. The emphasis on players and school time meant gossip and he couldn’t pass on information on Minerva’s student years. He just couldn’t.

"Oh! You’re right, Filius!" Pomona was suddenly back in full swing, to Minerva’s clear panic. Whatever this was, it made her sit down her cup and try a _now, Pomona_ , just to be interrupted yet again. "I was two years ahead of you, but I remember you had some kind of _rivalry_ with another girl in your year, the Gobstone Club president. I say rivalry but you know what I mean."

Again the wagging eyebrows. This was just _delicious_.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pomona." The old cat was flustered! "You just said I never cared about gobstones and now you say I had a rivalry with another girl because of it, make up your mind!"

"Oh, come off it! I remember if perfectly now. You kept throwing barbs at each other for years and we all just thought it was sports antagonism, since you played quidditch and her gobstones, or even more of the old Gryffindor/Slytherin clash, until the day the Head Girl caught the two of you making out in the Restricted Section in your fifth year!"

The mention of club president and Slytherin in the same phrase set off a series of alarms in Severus’ head. Dazed, he looked at Albus, still silently smiling to himself on his chair. He was too quiet. The dread started to mount.

"What was her name again? Colleen?" Filius asked Pomona, right over Minerva’s protests.

"Can’t remember. Elaine?"

_No. No no no-_

"Eileen."

Those awful, _horrendous_ blue eyes were fixed on himself now, a small grin playing behind the half moon glasses. _Fucking shi-_

"Eileen Prince."

He addressed the rest of the room now, but Severus barely listened. He knew, the _bastard_. He knew exactly who he was talking about, even if the others didn't. And he was enjoying every second of it.

"Yes, that’s the one! I remember Marian saying you both looked like you’d been brawling and just decided to suck each other’s faces halfway through it. You’d had a few tiffs before, so it makes sense, the _tension_." Wiping her eyes, Pomona sighed. Minerva was beet red, while Severus felt he lost every single drop of blood in his body. He felt faint. "I wonder where she is now. Never heard of her again after school."

 _She’s back in Spinner’s End, she’s my fucking mum,_ Severus thought, a bit hysterical.

"I don’t see why you’re bringing this up now!" Minerva bit out angrily. "The rumour is over thirty years old and completely irrelevant!"

"Maybe because your infatuation and sort of break up are behind your dislike of gobstones?" At Minerva’s huff, Pomona retorted "Oh, come on! I know you’re a minister’s daughter, but you can’t deny it when you were literally caught in the act! What harm would it make to just acknowledge it properly?"

He kept staring back and forth at the two witches now, dazed. _This was insane._ Minerva seemed to be keeping something inside forcefully, jaw clenched tight.

"Fine! I snogged Eileen Prince in fifth year, she didn’t want anything to do with me later, and we’re not talking about this _ever_ again," she snapped. Banging her cup on the table, she got up and left in a flurry, slamming the door closed behind her hard enough to rattle the portraits around it, their occupants grumbling about impolite people. Her two companions were left gaping in her wake.

"Oh dear, I think we should apologize." Recovering first, Filius stood to follow her, Pomona on his heels once the shock wore off. “Excuse us, Albus, Severus, we better deal with this before she stews it too much and has time to plot revenge. See you at dinner."

Still speechless, Severus was left staring at the fire. Of all the possible, wretched ways this night could go this was certainly not one he could have ever predicted. How many times had he complained about McGonagall at home to his mum? Why did she never say anything?

No, she wouldn't just come and say "Oh, McGonagall. I kissed her once after a fistfight." No, that'd just have left him even more discomfited in Transfiguration classes than he'd already been. He shuddered at the thought. _Fuck._

His panic was interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder, and another offering him tea. _Chamomile,_ he thought, sniffing it, _fitting._ It was probably spiked. Calming Draught most likely.

"They didn't know." He said, to no one in particular. "They didn't know who they were talking about, not really." Squinting, he turned to Albus. "But _you_ knew."

"Yes."

"Then why?"

“Well, I know, for a fact, that our Minerva never truly got over her first… infatuation.” He urged Severus to drink his tea, and didn’t that just confirm that it was certainly spiked. _Sod it,_ he thought, downing it in one gulp and burning his whole fucking mouth in the process. Sighing, Albus summoned the pot and refilled the cup, continuing. “I also know Eileen was already under pressure from her family to find a good marriage, and they’d never accept a half-blood witch, which contributed to her rebuffing Minerva’s clumsy advances. Though I remember she kept sneaking around to watch Gryffindor’s quidditch team practice.” 

The Headmaster paused, seemingly entranced by the flames. The Calming Draught hit just right and he felt the tension in his body melt away. Albus turned back to him, now calculating. The pause had been perfectly timed then.

"Finally," he added, watching him over his glasses. “I know your father, Eileen’s husband, passed away just two years ago, and now your mother is very comfortable in her widowed status. She might enjoy… reconnecting with old friends, don’t you think?”

With another shoulder squeeze, he trailed out of the room, the door’s soft click announcing the return of his solitude. Sagging into the armchair, mind fuzzy from the potion, Severus tried to make sense of what just happened.

Fifteen minutes later he didn’t feel any closer to figuring out if the whole situation was a result of Albus’ careful planning or just his ridiculous luck, both were equally likely given the circumstances. The last thought he had before slipping into a potion induced nap was _I better write mum..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fright comes: another fright. No rest for poor Severus.

_I'm going to fucking kill Albus Dumbledore…_

This was the first coherent thought that passed through Severus head when he woke up. Not to say others, even less favourable ones, hadn't spent the last ten minutes making a riot inside what was left of his brain, but since they were mainly a disjointed stream of swear words and meaningless grunts you could hardly count them. 

Another ten minutes passed before he could finally convince his overly relaxed body that he needed to get out of bed, dragging himself out of his bedroom as if swimming in syrup. He had no sodding chance to teach classes in this state, so he'd have to improvise.

Calming Draughts were supposed to slow down the body and cause a sense of inner peace, even in extreme cases such as panic attacks. He'd already had a mild resistance to them, courtesy of his active double spy days, so he saw no harm in accepting Albus' spiked tea, predicting just a little lassitude. He should have known better, of course, and he vowed to never accept anything edible out of the Headmaster's hands ever again.

He'd used the _Hagrid version_. The devious bastard.

That explained the lack of any memories after passing out in the staff room and the bloody drowsiness… fuck, fourteen hours? Fourteen fucking hours after ingesting it, different from the usual six hours effect. He could only hope he'd slept most of it, though he had no idea how he came to be in his own rooms.

 _This requires desperate measures_ , he thought through the fog. _Pepper Up time, bitch._

Mixing potions with contradictory effects was only to be done by specialists, in extreme cases, and under supervision. Every self respecting witch or wizard knew that.

Good thing he was a damn good specialist and it was most definitely an extreme situation. Looking at the vial, he shrugged and downed it in one go. He could just skip supervision, and hope for the best. _Cheers_ , he thought, once it started to take effect, slowly clearing his mind and kick starting his numb body back into action. 

A little tachycardia wouldn't kill him. Probably.

Severus showered and dressed in a flash, and before he fully realised he was already on his way to the Great Hall. _Right, a bit of confusion is fine too_ , he thought, slowing down. Focusing on his stride, as to not appear too out of sorts, he pressed on. Now all he had to do was find out what he’d done between falling asleep in one place and waking up in another, all without giving away that he didn’t know it yet. 

The Entrance Hall was as full as you could expect for a winter morning in which going out was virtually impossible. Severus sneered at the general direction of a cluster of third years until they got out of his way and turned to the doors, just to freeze midstep when his ears picked up his name among the crowd.

“Severus Snape, yes girl, that’s exactly who I want to see. Wasn’t I clear the first time?”

That sounded like… No, it couldn’t be.

He craned his neck, trying to see the front doors through the dozens of kids milling around, and, impossible though it was, he easily found the very familiar head of black hair to whom the voice belonged. _Merlin’s balls…_

His dearest mother was currently terrorizing the Ravenclaw prefect, sticking out like sore thumb in her pharmacy cashier uniform among the students in robes. The whispering around her grew steadily as Severus elbowed his way through the crowd, suddenly unsure if his shakiness came from the wholy unwise potions combo whose influence he was currently under or the sheer surreality of having _his mother_ at the Entrance Hall. She turned her head in the middle of her scolding and saw him before he reached her. 

“There you are!” She left the perplexed girl behind and marched towards him, the children jumping out of her way much like they did with him. “Quick, tell me where she is so I can beat her arse and leave. I told Nancy I’d be a little late but I want to be back before ten.”

That had to be an hallucination because not a word she said made any sense.

“I don- what? Mam, what are you talking about?”

“McGonagall, you silly boy!” she answered, impatient, scanning the hall as if already looking for her target. _Minerva was her target?_ , he thought, and then it hit him like a bloody lorry. “When you said in your letter than she was still bad mouthing gobstones thirty sodding years after school I knew she didn’t learn horse shit in all this time,” she continued, puffing up in a display of anger that would look scary if she wasn’t skinny as a matchstick and using a bright orange scarf to hold her hair in place. “But by Morgana I’ll beat it into her fat head even if it’s the last thing I do- Don’t you shush me, boy!”

“We’re in the middle of the bloody hall, can’t we just take this somewhere- oh fine!” He cut off at her glare. He couldn’t just buggering ignore her glare. Squeezing his nose bridge, he took a deep breath. _Desperate measures._ “Anyone still in this hall on the count of five will lose twenty points _and_ get a detention. Five, four, three…”

The children, very obviously trying to subtly listen to their squabble, scurried in every direction. After a few yelps and swearings the hall was deserted. The perks of being the bloody git of the dungeons. He threw a Muffliato around them just to be safe.

“I didn’t send you no letter, mam. I’m sure I’d remember if I did it- ok, nevermind.” He snatched the parchment she pulled out of her purse, cursing Albus once again for his damn dirty tactics. 

The letter was a mess, to put it mildly. He’d rambled about the students, about slippery Owlery stairs, about the dessert choice at lunch, about Albus’ ridiculous robes, and finally, in the last line, almost as an afterthought, he wrote _Your x grlfrien d is bit chin bout gobstons,_ followed by a perfectly normal _Love, Rus._ Trust his mother to skip around that goddamn alphabet soup and actually find out something to get mad at. He wondered if it was the gobstones or just Minerva. Sighing, he begged his heart to just decide if it wanted to skip out of his chest or bail out on him, the indecision was making it very hard to think.

“You know I can’t help you pick a fight with one of my colleagues, right?”

“I’m not asking for your help, or permission,” she huffed, taking back the letter and shoving past him. “I’m just saying it would be faster, but if you’re not keen on helping your old mam I won’t make you.”

“You’re not even that old, don’t know why you play that card every time,” muttering, he trailed after her, trying to think of something, _anything_ , he could do. Stalling? “I don’t know where she is, she doesn’t even have a proper schedule. The castle is enormous, you know, it could take you all day to find her, and you don’t want to keep Nancy waiting.”

She leveled him with with withering glare. “I’m a witch, Severus.” Pulling her wand out of her purse, she flatly said “Point me, McGonagall.”

The wand turned in her palm, pointing in the direction of the teacher’s lounge, where he knew Minerva went every morning before breakfast to check on her correspondence and take an early look at the Prophet to, in her words, avoid untoward surprises during her meal. She was actually boringly predictable. With a raised eyebrow, his mum turned on her heel and marched in the pointed direction with renewed purpose. Severus could only follow, his mind chanting _shitshitshitshit_ , among every other swear words on his vocabulary. 

“Mam, please, you can't just barge into the school and challenge the Deputy Head to a duel!”

“Who said anything about duelling?” He was almost running to keep up with her now. “Don't need magic to teach her a lesson, my hands will do just fine.”

They were almost at the door now and Severus decided to throw caution to the wind and try one last card. He sprinted and cut her off, spreading his arms to block her path and damn if it didn't made him winded. He was going to _fucking murder_ Albus Dumbledore.

“You could've at least told me you dated her!” He blurted out, between one lungful and another. “What if someone found out while I was in school?”

“Well, but they didn't, did they?” She kept trying to sidestep him, glaring fiercely. “And I can't see how what I did in school is any of your business.” Lightning fast, she poked him in the side with her finger. Severus yelped, startled, crossing his arms in self defense, his mother slipping past him once again with practiced ease. The lounge door was ajar and Eileen barrelled through shamelessly, while he stared in abject horror as her heels disappeared. He’d failed. 

“I heard you’re still talking bullshit about gobstones, bristle head!”

Something shattered. He failed _hard_.

Severus ran the last bit of the way but had to stop when a sudden dizzy spell hit him. He clutched the doorframe and squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to pass faster. At this point it was probably anxiety and empty stomach, judging by the sweat beading on his forehead. There was no way a Calming Draught could still be acting on him, not even the Hagrid kind. He risked a glance inside and promptly wished to be anywhere but in the staff room. Maybe anywhere but Scotland.

Minerva was rooted to the floor near the letter tray, face slack with shock. Porcelain pieces were scattered in front of the roaring fireplace, remnants of the teacup dropped by Filius at the fright of having an unknown woman barge in an otherwise private room.

Eileen, on the other hand, stood right in the middle as if she owned the place, hands on her hips. Her glare was colder than the freezing winter morning outside.

“Well? Do you have anything to say in your defense,” she pressed, walking up to Minerva “Or will I have to punch some sense into your Bludger addled brains like when we were fifteen?”

He watched as Minerva opened and closed her mouth, making no sound except for a few disjointed wheezes. Unhelpfully, his mind supplied she looked like she’d seen a ghost, but that wasn’t really applicable to magic folk, much less one who had a ghost as a professional colleague. Her eyes were round as saucers. He choked a hysteric giggle, torn between cackling like a madman and tearing out his hair. _You’ll look like a madman either way_.

Filius squeezing past him in a desperate dash also brought him back to action. 

“Mam, please, 'twas just a mix-up!” He pleaded, “You can’t possibly take a letter like that seriously!”

The interruption had Minerva turning sharply to him. She stared at him like she’d never seen him before, one hand pointing at Eileen and the other clutching the table by her side. He guessed seeing them both side by side would be enough for her to put two and two together, if he hadn’t already called her mother. The matching eyebrows wouldn’t have let him lie anyway.

“She’s your-” Minerva turned to Eileen, pointing at Severus now. “And h- he’s your-?!”

“Yes yes, but that’s not on the table right now!” Eileen jabbed her finger on Minerva’s chest. “I gave you two options: take back what you said yesterday or I’ll take it back from you, just like old times. Choose.”

It felt like watching a car wreck. At first, Minerva simply peered down at the offending digit, but when she raised her head her mouth was a thin line, eyes hard with determination. _They’re going to kill each other_ , he thought, scrambling for his wand, _they’re going to tear each other’s faces off right here in the teacher’s lounge_. His colleague sucked in a breath, straightening her spine. Severus had a Petrificus Totalus at the tip of his tongue.

“Ah, ladies.”

Three heads turned to the door, where Albus stood. He gazed at them serenely, as if one of your employee’s mother about to come to blows with another employee was such an ordinary occurrence it didn’t even warrant a second glance. They were saved, by a hair’s breadth, but it was finally over. Albus would get them to see reason, he woul-

“Pardon my interruption, I’d just like to borrow Severus, if it weren’t too much of a hassle.”

They’re were _fucked_. Absolutely, completely _buggered six ways to Sunday_.

The fucking _bastard_.

“Come, Severus, I need your assistance right now in a pressing matter. Have a nice chat, Mrs. Snape, Professor.” The Headmaster steered him outside by his shoulder, his parting smile positively beatific. 

He wanted to claw it off his face.

Albus gently closed the door behind them, sealing the room and making it soundproof with a lazy flick of his wand. Sighing, Severus turned his best glare at the Headmaster, who just continued with his insufferable smiling.

“If they kill each other, it’ll be your fault.”

“I’m most sure they’ll do nothing of the sort, if you know what I mean.” The eyebrow raise was so suggestive it made his skin crawl. 

“Thanks for the image, now you owe me a drink. Make it a good one and I _might_ be persuaded to not wreck your office. _Might_.”

“It’s half past seven in the morning, Severus. And besides, I don’t think it’s wise to mix yet another substance in your bloodstream right now. You’ve had Pepper Up this morning, yes?” His only answer was deepen his scowl even more. Albus sighed. “Alright, maybe I could bring out one of the good cognac bottles, but just one small dose.”

“You better hope I still have a mother when we come back, you meddling fool.”

Chuckling, Albus patted his shoulder and steered him away.

* * *

By the time Albus finally decided they should probably go check on them again, he only had ten minutes left before his first class. The drink had been good enough to soothe his nerves. Or maybe it had been the breakfast Albus pushed into him. Going almost a day without food was bound to make one jittery, even without almost overdosing on contradictory potions because your employer has no consideration for basic safety.

The sight that greeted them was… not what he expected.

Minerva was disheveled. Her hair loose, clearly put up in a hurry judging by the fly aways. A few scratches were visible up her neck and cheeks, her clothes rumpled as if she’d slept on them. The absolute worst part was the ridiculous glassy eyed look. She seemed like a person who couldn’t believe her luck. His mother was just beside, tying back her hair with the tacky orange scarf. Smug as sin.

They made out in the staff room at seven in the morning. The staff room was now forbidden territory. _Never again fluffy armchairs by the fireplace, it was good while it lasted,_ he thought mournfully.

Severus stopped in front of them with his hands on his hips, peering at the room behind them over his mother’s shoulder. Pomona was on point with her recount of their adolescent escapades. They _did_ wreck the whole fucking the room. Upturned chairs, letters and books scattered on the floor amidst bits of broken baubles that used to inhabit the various surfaces. Even a torn curtain, hanging limp by the window. He raised his eyebrow at Minerva. Flushing fiercely, she threw a wide Reparo at the room and closed the door, blocking the sound of things mending and going back to their usual places. His mother had finished her hair and, sparing him a fleeting glance, attacked her purse searching for something.

“So?” He prompted, when none of them offered any information. He pointed to the room. “Did you get it out of your system?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Albus hide a giggle in his sleeve. He glared at him for good measure. Minerva seemed to have lost her words once again, only managing a weak “Erm...” before Eileen took the reigns.

“Somewhat.” She pulled a biro and Severus’ letter from her bag and started scribbling in an empty corner. “Though, since I’m not completely sure she got the message, I feel we should continue our… _discussion_ another day. Over tea, maybe? My place.”

She offered Minerva the ripped parchment corner, where Severus briefly saw the word Spinner, before his colleague grabbed it. She held it gently, tracing the letters with her nail. Breathing deeply, she raised her head to look at Eileen, seemingly blind to the rest of them, or to the fact that they were standing in the middle of the bloody corridor. 

“Your place is fine. This Sunday?”

“It’s settled then. Til Sunday.” His mother gave a playful slap on Minerva’s arm, a smug smirk firmly set in her face, causing the old cat to blush _again_. Shameless, both of them.

“Am I invited?” He asked when she turned to him.

“You know bloody well you’re not. I need to go, it’s a walk, a Floo trip and an Apparition to get back to Cokeworth for me, never got the hang of long distances.” She patted him in the cheek. “Behave. Have a good day, Headmaster, Mad Minnie.” 

With one last leer, she walked away, leaving behind three bewildered faces. Albus was the first to come back to his senses, chuckling merrily at Minerva’s futile attempt at hiding her beet red face in her hands. With a conspiratory wink, he left Severus to deal with the situation alone. He might still have to wreck his office some, in the end. After rubbing his temples for a few breaths, he turned to Minerva. Only her wide eyes were visible.

“Mad Minnie?”

“Old quidditch epithet,” she muttered through her fingers, shuddering. “Haven’t the foggiest why she still remembers.”

“Probably same reason you were still resentful of gobstones.”

That brought her out from her hiding in a flash, a mystified look in her face. It was Severus turn to flush at the scrutiny. It was certainly out of character enough for him, but it was the pure, sappiest, unadulterated truth. He had no reason to withhold it. 

Minerva straightened herself, charming her hair back into place. She looked impeccable as always in a blink of an eye. No one who looked at her would be able to tell she started her morning by getting violently snogged, but that was Minerva for you. Brushing her sleeves, she cleared her throat and looked at his face again, a shy smile playing on her lips.

“Yes… I think…” She took a deep breath and smiled, wide and bright. “You’re right, Severus. Come, it’s time for classes.”

The previous day had been awful. He’d been doused in goop, broke up a fight and drugged by his employer. He woke up feeling like shit, just to almost die trying to break another fight, this time with his mother in the middle, being thwarted again by said employer. Miraculously, it all worked out. And his mother was happy. He couldn’t really complain, even if his heart still felt like it was about to burst.

He followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is and it's huge (for me, 3k words is huge for me). Again, this is not the last one, I had even more ideas while writing this one. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva ponders about fate and tries to talk things through.

It was widely known, through both Hogwarts faculty and student body, that Minerva McGonagall did not believe in fate.

She was indeed very vocal in her disbelief. Divination was a sham in her honest opinion, and being taught by someone such as Sybil Trelawney, with her shawls and eccentricities and death omens, did it no favours at all. No, the only one responsible for your destiny was yourself, she used to think. Your choices and your willingness to work for what you want were your only limits.

Her belief was badly shaken on that unassuming winter morning.

Her night had been divided between fuming against her tactless friends and trying to ignore the return of that half-forgotten stab of pain she always felt when she thought about Eileen. The memories kept turning in her head as she hissed at Mrs. Norris, way past midnight, while they ended up chasing the same rat through an empty corridor. The first time they fought, back in their first year, when she got a punch to the face from the unassuming Slytherin after laughing at a win of the national gobstones team. Eileen snorting a laugh at an overheard joke and immediately frowning when she noticed who was talking, Minerva thinking she had a nice smile, if only she weren’t such a sour face all the time. The urge to poke and prod at her that came from nowhere, the butterflies in her stomach whenever she managed to get her attention, though it was usually in a scuffle. Eileen finally grabbing her by the hair on that day and just kissing her senseless, books strewn and paper flying everywhere, and the realization _Oh, so that’s what it meant_.

Eileen avoiding her for the rest of their school years. All the letters returning unopened. Disappearing from the wizarding world. Breaking her heart.

As she watched Mrs. Norris scurrying away, tail flickering angrily, she thought there was nothing else she could do but plot a little revenge to take her mind off the ache, though neither time nor other arms had been able to fully do away with it so far. In the end, she let the rat go, returning to her rooms as morose as when she left, her Animagus form offering no new insight on the situation.

The next morning, when she saw none but the very reason for her sleepless night striding towards her, eyes burning with determination _exactly_ like when they were children, the first thing she could think, if she could call it so, was that this could only be fate. That after so many years, she was _here_ , real and solid and still as fierce as then. The second thing she thought, when she saw Severus Snape trailing after her and calling her _ma_ , was a very alarmed _what the fuck?_

Her doubts about fate were almost completely dispelled when it all turned out to be a product of Albus’ meddling. He left, dragging a very frazzled looking Severus with him, and Minerva felt extremely foolish for not seeing Eileen’s features reflected in her friend before, especially given how much time she spent glaring at the Slytherin girl all those years ago. Same hair, same eyebrows. Different nose, cheeks. Same eyes.

“Are you going to spend all my free time lost in thought or are you going to say something worth my while?” Her introspection was roughly interrupted by a snap of fingers right in her nose. “Though I don’t know why I expected any different, you were always dreadfully slow.”

Minerva regarded Eileen, fully taking in her figure. She was still twig skinny, and her loose-fitting uniform did nothing to hide it. Her hair was longer than it’d been the last time she saw her, a few grey hairs peeking from under the appallingly orange scarf she wore to hold it in place, which paired with the lines around her mouth made her look very much like the fifty plus years she already had.

(And wasn’t that a sobering thought. It’d been over thirty years since they kissed.)

Her eyes were still the same. 

“If you mean about gobstones, I still think the same way I did back then. It is a ridiculous game and it can barely be counted as a sport. But,” Eileen snorted, shaking her head. “If you mean about… us… I could say a few things, I think.”

“There was never any us.” She answered, turning her back to Minerva, arms crossed. 

“No, not really.” _Gryffindor bravery_ , she thought. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to Eileen, til she was within arms’ reach. “But there could? Have been, I mean?” _Fucking lame, Minerva, thirty years and that’s the best you can come up with,_ she cringed inside.

Eileen faced her again, pensive. Sighing, she reached up to untie her scarf and carefully folded it, packing it away in her purse. Minerva watched in bewilderment as she knelt beside one of the heavier sofas, hiding her bag in the space under, just to get up and twist her hair in a bun, tying it with an elastic she kept in her wrist. Smoothing her uniform, Eileen squared her shoulders and looked at her, unwavering.

“There could have been, yes.”

Releasing a breath she didn’t even notice she was holding, Minerva felt relief tingling through her body, the answer repeating continuously in her mind. Without thought, she reached for Eileen’s hand, raising the other to cup her cheek. A curved eyebrow and a squeeze in her hand were all the encouragements she got, all she needed.

The kiss was unhurried but resolute. Thirty _fucking_ years in the making and it was worth every second, every damn relationship she broke because something was lacking and made her feel so silly afterwards. 

_Maybe it was fate, after all_ , she thought, _maybe it was mea-_

Fingers twisting in the hair at her nape cut through whatever thoughts she still had, another hand sneaking in the curve of her back to bring her closer. Eileen broke the kiss, smirking at her mumbled protest. A soft, teasing peck to the corner of her mouth silenced her quite efficiently, and she felt herself being backed into the table, the letter tray pushed unceremoniously to the floor along with other… things? She was past the point of caring about a few broken baubles. They were witches, after all.

“This is. Very nice. And all,” she punctuated the words with kisses to her cheek, neck, while Minerva tried to get her back to the point. Infuriating. “But I _do_ think you could do better than that.”

She was released suddenly, almost toppling to the floor at the loss. Eileen walked away, a wicked smile on her lips, and raised her wand, Minerva frowning dazedly at her. The silent question was answered with a shrug.

“They already expect us to wreck the room anyway, might as well have some fun for old time's sake. You did insult gobstones after all.”

Understanding came in stages, but when it clicked Minerva laughed. Wiping her wand out of her sleeve lightning fast, she threw the first jinx, which rebounded on Eileen's shield and exploded a clock on the mantle. They were picking up where they left, decades ago. Ducking behind an armchair, she felt Eileen's laughter wash over her, warm and full of promises, followed by the sizzling of a bright blue spell soaring over her head. Something crashed behind her.

She felt fifteen again.

* * *

The following week had Minerva smiling at the wind. She got lost in her thoughts frequently enough that a few of the children stopped to ask her if she was feeling alright, while others started avoiding her, whispering of possession and other silly alternatives only a children’s mind could come up with. Her colleagues, on the other hand, kept throwing her barely disguised smiles, after Filius went and spread the news faster than she could spell gossip. Pomona was shameless in her recounting of their school days adventures, and, being an eye witness to many of them, her presence was highly sought after at tea gatherings these days. Albus, while silent, managed to be more insufferable than all the others combined by simply smiling at her incessantly. Not even her charming his beard bright purple made him less smug. She bit the bullet four days later and reversed it after he started wearing only canary yellow robes, claiming it complimented his beard rather nicely, don’t you think so? Absolutely disgusting.

There was only one person who kept avoiding her, and it was exactly the one she wanted to talk to. 

Severus had barely exchanged a word with her since that morning. He’d certainly fulfilled all his work’s demands, effective as always, and his timid encouragement still rang clearly in her mind, all the dearer given how rare it was for him, but that had been the extent of his communication all through the week. She even offered to deliver any messages he had to his mother when she was leaving for their tea on Sunday, to which he blushed rather fiercely and answered that he still knew how to write well enough on his own, no need for messengers. 

The tea hadn’t even been that much of a euphemism. They did have tea. Eventually. _Thank Circe they were witches,_ she thought, with a blush of her own, _it would be very hard to keep it up if they couldn’t Reparo everything afterwards._

She could understand the lad’s reaction. She really could. It was bound to be a little uncomfortable to have your mum dating a work colleague, especially one you spent most of the year locked up with in a Scottish castle, and to have it sprung up on him like that couldn't help either. Either way, Minerva wouldn't accept this sudden shyness, she couldn't. Not when Severus was the only one who knew exactly how to answer when she voiced her wishes to strangle one little miscreant or another. She _needed_ him back.

Minerva corralled him while he struggled to climb the front steps to the Entrance Hall, swaddled up to his eyes in scarves and coats against the snow swirling in the wind. She saw the moment he noticed her blocking his only way to the castle and to warmth, smirking when resignation flashed in his face. 

“I don't know about you, but I don't think I'd make a pretty enough ice statue.” He scowled at a group of Hufflepuffs as they passed, surreptitiously trying to sidestep her. She crossed her arms and glared back. “Can't we at least do this inside?”

He looked pitiful enough, dripping wet and half-frozen through, that she took pity on him quicker than she intended. “My office is warmer than yours, and you look like you need a few biscuits.” She started walking, before thinking better and turning to him again. “And don’t even think of making a run for it. I won’t hesitate in using the Leg Lock on you in the middle of the hallway.”

Their walk was silent except for Severus dragging his feet and swearing under his breath at his frozen toes. Once they were safely hidden in the warmth of her office, Minerva waited while he shook off his sodden outer layers, leaving them in a heap by the fire in his hurry to get the blood running on his fingers again.

“Last week you gave me the impression you were fine with me and your mother.” She said while filling the cups. “Did you change your mind?”

He munched on a biscuit, stalling. “It’s not my place to approve or not, so I don’t see why it matters.” Making a face, he added. “Besides, after my father, even the Giant Squid would be an improvement, goddamn bastard that he was.”

“Still, I’d rather have it all out in the open now, if you have anything to say.” She pushed the biscuit tin towards him. “I can’t spend another week without being able to complain about Richard Milton’s attempts at bullshitting his way through homework.”

“Fuck, he’s such a cocky little prick. I have no idea how he’s still insisting he’s not making it all up after four sodding years of this.” With a dramatic sigh, he washed his mouthful with tea, brushing away the crumbs with the back of his hand. Another heavy sigh and he turned to her, two bright red spots on his cheeks denouncing his discomfort. “I’m alright with you two. Ma seemed happy with you, and you seem happy with her. It’s just… so bloody _strange_! You were my teacher for seven years, now you’re my colleague, but you’re dating my mother? But we work together? But- but you also carried me to the Infirmary that time in Second Year I was sneezing sparks, remember? And now all of sudden you’re snogging my mum in the staff room-”

Severus got up in the middle of his rant and started pacing, wringing his hands at times, just to wave around right after, with some hair pulling sprinkled here and there.

“Severus!” She snapped, freezing him mid-turn. “Sit down, have another biscuit.”

“I don’t want any biscuits, I’m in the middle of-”

“Have. Another. Biscuit.”

He threw himself in the armchair again, snatching the whole tin out of her hand, the little heathen. She pursed her lips at his defiant glare, but decided by pouring more tea again and he accepted his cup with shaky fingers.

“I know it’ll feel strange, because it is, but can we not overcome it? We are friends, and I value your company very much. I’d be saddened if it were to change by something that’s making me so happy.”

Severus visibly deflated at that. Minerva would always marvel at how something so simple as alluding to their friendship as such could have such an effect on him every time. He pushed his hair back, chewing up his words along with the biscuits. Scowling at the now near-empty tin, he put it back in the low table by their side and squared his shoulders before looking up at her again.

“Alright, I can try. Just,” he grimaced. “Spare me the details, for the sake of what’s left of my sanity.” He stood, picking up his still damp clothes. Minerva could only smile at his dejection.

“Deal, I won’t mention our non Severus friendly teas in your presence.” She laughed at his _ugh_. “Except…” He stopped, hand on the doorknob, and arched an eyebrow at her. “This week’s tea _is_ Severus friendly. Eileen asked me to invite you.”

“All three of us? Together?”

“Yes, all three.”

“Oh.” He looked _horrified_. It was as damn hilarious as Eileen promised it would be. “That’s… distressing.”

He left without another word, and Minerva burst out laughing when the door clicked shut. It would be awkward, that was certain, but it would be worth it if only because a vexed Severus made the best observations. Settling more comfortably in her chair, Minerva closed her eyes to better reminisce about Sunday. _Maybe it was really fate_ , she thought, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to put their family tea in this one but Minerva really wanted to kiss Eileen, so I had to comply. Next chapter it is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva is anxious about having tea (just tea, mind you) with both Snapes.

_ You are an adult, _ she thought.  _ An accomplished fifty-three year old witch, who fought in a war and has been a teacher for over two decades. You can do this. _

She couldn’t do this.

Sighing, Minerva threw away the hairpin she spent the last fifteen minutes fiddling with, giving up on her hair entirely. It looked exactly like it did everyday, a perfectly tight bun without a single strand out of place, and that was precisely the problem. It was the result of having only empty headed teenagers as an audience daily for those two decades, since they couldn’t care less about how she dressed and buns were awfully convenient when chasing down one child or another. 

It was just a tea, for Merlin’s sake. It would be just her and Eileen and… Severus. Minerva hid her face in her hands with a groan. The second she started making moon eyes at Eileen she’d lose all her credibility with him, and it always took her less than five minutes to start feeling sappy. She was doomed.

Raising her head, she looked herself over on the vanity’s mirror, running a hand over the bun. Maybe she could… 

With a twirl of her wand, the hair reassembled in a loose plait. It certainly looked different from her usual style but not too far away. It was nice. Besides, Eileen was fond of grabbing her hair, this should appeal to her taste-

_ Family tea _ , she cut herself.  _ Mind out of the bedroom _ . With a nod, she finished gathering her things, bundling up for the walk to the gates. 

Severus was waiting for her by the hearth in the Entrance Hall, warming his hands and already looking uncomfortable. He scowled at a miscellaneous group of Second Years coming in from the grounds, soaking wet with melted snow and laughing, before noticing her. He raised an eyebrow.

“You said this was a family tea.”

“It is, what are you on about?” she blushed. Of course he’d notice, the twat. She could play this game too.

“Hair down, Minerva?” They set off through the snow, his breath making little clouds around his smirk. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. I’ve known you since I was eleven and I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

“And you said you didn’t want any details,” she beamed at him, opening a path through the fresh snow with her wand. “You could’ve just told me you changed your mind.”

“No, we’re good,” he hurried, flushing. She smirked in victory. He was so easy to rattle.

The conversation died out after that, both huffing through the slippery walk. They disapparated right after the gates, reappearing at the equally frozen riverbank in Cokeworth. Minerva couldn’t help but think, every time she visited, about what their lives had been, in such a dreary place. Even the colors were muted and dull, washed out by the decades of soot and disrepair. Spinner's End wasn't an exception, she thought, knocking at the door, with many of its houses boarded and empty. 

"I thought you got lost in the blizzard with how long it took you to arrive." Eileen opened the door, scolding them. "Dry yourselves before coming in, I don't want to see any puddles in my carpet."

“Good to see you too, mam, damn.” They dried themselves, Minerva reaching out to give Eileen a little peck on her lips while Severus hung their coats. “Oh, come on, already?”

“You can get a kiss too, you silly boy.”

Minerva stepped into the living room, laughing at Severus’ flustered sputtering while his mother pulled him down to kiss his cheek. They came in right after, Eileen throwing a her a stealthy wink as she sat down beside her in the old sofa. The whole house had a tired air about it, full of chipped corners and worn out pieces, but it seemed like the last years had been kinder to it than the past decades. 

“You found another bookshelf.” Severus stepped past them to inspect the empty piece of furniture. It fit right in with the other ones lining the room, each one different from the other.

“And it was a damn good bargain, I tell you,” Eileen answered, clearly pleased with herself. “The old church by the square was renovating and they auctioned their old things to help with the cost. Snatched it for ten pounds just because it had two cracked shelves, then Reparo’d it and it’s good as new.” She looked at him pointedly. “With the rate you buy books we needed it if we ever wanted to see the floor of your room again.”

“You like them too, you just like to complain.” His answer had no bite in it, the banter clearly an usual part of their relationship.

“Pot, kettle, right?” He scowled at her, Eileen laughed and  _ goddamn _ Minerva could feel she was making the most pathetic besotted face in history. Severus raised his eyebrows at her, teasing, but she was way past the point of caring. “I also fixed the kitchen cabinets, finally found some handles that fit them.”

“You could’ve done it in a flash if you’d just Reparo’d it like you did with the shelves,” he sat down in with a huff. “I’ll never understand why you use magic for some things and not for others.”

“And I told you a thousand times, magic fixes get worn faster than if done by hand, that’s why.” Eileen turned to her, amused. “Min, you’ll catch flies if you don’t close your mouth.”

Minerva flushed. “Sorry. It’s a really nice shelf?”

Both Snapes rolled their eyes at the same time. “Unbelievable,” Eileen said, shaking her head fondly. “Tell me about your week, you dolt. Did you manage to find out who charmed the armors in the second floor to swear in french?”

They managed to talk after that, and, miracle of miracles, it wasn’t too badly stilted. Severus went in a tirade against his N.E.W.T. classes, though Minerva knew he didn’t hate them as much as the younger ones. His biggest complaint this time was that they lacked imagination and, in the special case of one Slytherin boy, the foresight to not mix highly volatile ingredients in the same table, such an irredeemable sin. All through it, Eileen kept stroking her hand with her thumb, her warm presence by her side comforting and so right. This whole scene, this domesticity, felt right. They could tease her all they wanted, it was worth it.

“What about the tea you promised?” she asked after some time, if only to stop herself from staring too much at a stray strand of inky black hair falling down Eileen’s neck. It was terribly distracting.

“I was waiting for the scones - don’t grumble at me that magic is faster, Rus, you know I never got the hang of those spells.” Severus threw her a dirty look. “Everything ends up tasting like cardboard. As I was saying, I was waiting for the scones, but there’s no harm in having a spot of tea now and a little more later.” Eileen looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to help me?”

Minerva fought down the redness climbing up her neck. She was a professional, bugger it all. “Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

Eileen led her by the hand, shushing Severus’ groan to  _ please, keep it down _ . The kitchen smelled like freshly baked treats, sugary sweet and welcoming. She threw a glance over her shoulder, before pulling Eileen close and kissing her soundly. Her efforts were enthusiastically returned, a hand sneaking to gently hold her braid, careful not to mess it up.

“Love what you did with the hair,” Eileen said when they finally split long enough to breath. “Only wish you’d done it when we were alone so I could show my appreciation.”

“Maybe Severus can be persuaded to go back alone. It’s Saturday, after all, I could spend the night.” Another kiss. “You were right, his discomfort is really funny. I’m almost tempted to take pity on him though.”

She felt the huff of laughter against her cheek. “He’s alright. He’s happy with it, he just doesn’t know how to react,” she said, a subtle melancholic note in her voice. “He never had much experience with displays of affection.” Nuzzling her neck one last time, Eileen pushed her away, smoothing her blouse. “Can you spell the tea? We’ve kept him waiting long enough, I think.”

Oh, how Minerva wished that thrice rotten bawbag Tobias Snape was still alive, if only so she could kill him herself. If only she’d gone after Eileen when they finished school, or inquired more about Severus’ home life when he was her student. If only, if only. She prepared the tea, the crockery flying out of the cabinets and neatly arranging themselves on the tray. A tap of her wand made the kettle boil in an instant, and she imagined pouring it on the man who hurt Eileen and Severus for so long. Arms circling her waist brought her out of her daydreaming, a soft kiss behind her ear making her shiver. Picking up the tray, Eileen beckoned her back to the living room. 

“I added a Reparo of my own to the shelves, plus a few other strengthening spells,” Severus said, strategically avoiding their eyes. He resumed rearranging the books, carefully dusting them by hand, she couldn’t avoid noticing. “It should last a few years now.”

“I was going to ask one of you to do that, you’re both better than me at Charms.” Pouring the tea, Eileen gestured with the cup in her hand. “Come sit down, I can do that later.”

Severus accepted with a frown. “You know I hate it when you talk about your abilities like that.” The sigh he received as answer showed this was an old argument. “It’s true! You’re strong, I know you are. If only you’d practice a little more…”

Minerva had refrained from mentioning it thus far, but she had noticed Eileen’s reticence at using magic for daily chores. She was very skilled at hexing and jinxing, their teenage trysts proof of that, and Minerva remembered she was a fair hand a Potions, though not as much as her son, but nowadays she rarely used if she had another option. She took the bus to work, cooked her meals on a gas stove, kept her food in an electric fridge and washed her dishes by hand. She  _ was _ very curious about it.

“A true Slytherin knows their strengths and their weaknesses, and when hard work is worth the time or not,” she answered, sounding bored. “Not everyone needs to be an all knowing scholar like the two of you, and that doesn’t make me any less of a witch. I can still grow magical plants with an ease you could only dream of.” 

“I don’t remember you liking Herbology in school.”

“Oh, no. That came after,” Eileen smiled at Minerva. “I was average at best in school. We never had much money here, as you can imagine, so it was always a hassle when this one,” she pointed at Severus, “got sick. After some time I dug out my books and tried my hand at some of the more ordinary plants, things muggles also use, and I discovered I could do much better alone than with old McAllister screaming at our ears about the amount of fertilizer.”

“After Tobias kicked the bucket,” she continued. “Rus used an Extension Charm on the yard. It’s quite interesting there in spring.” Eileen looked amused now. “So you see, I don’t need to be good at everything, just at what I need. Besides, the more magic in the house, the harder it will be to make the telly work. Can’t have that.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but there was a fond little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The off-hand mention reminded Minerva of another question.

“You never mentioned how your husband died.” She couldn’t avoid making the word husband sound like the vilest curse. Severus barked a startled laugh at her tone. “Was it illness of some sort?”

“No, it was an accident at the mill,” he answered, dismissive. “Honestly, we always wondered how long he’d be lucky to go to work drunk like he did and come back with all his limbs, operating heavy machines as he did.”

“It wasn’t a big surprise, truly,” Eileen added. “His hand got caught in a cog or another, pulled his arm right out of his body. He bled out in minutes, the doctors said they’d never seen anything like that. So much blood.” She shook her head, sighing, before squeezing Minerva’s hand and smiling. “I think the scones are ready.”

Reeling from the sudden change of subject, she watched as Eileen left the room with a spring in her step. That reaction was… strange. Frowning, she turned to Severus.

“Yeah, she always talks about it like that,” he said, looking at his tea. “And she  _ always _ mentions the amount of blood. I do wonder, sometimes, but between the two of us? Good for her.”

Reclining on her seat, Minerva considered this information. She only had the barest inkling of their lives before Tobias died, but it was enough to make her shake with anger. There were potions, or even curses, that could make a person bleed to death, and they were easily within Eileen’s reach. Looking at the doorway to the kitchen, she heard the love of her life fiddling with the stove, humming to herself. She thought about the bookshelves getting slowly filled with various books on both muggle and magical subjects, and a yard overflowing in spring. A house healing along with its residents.

It could also be a coincidence. 

Minerva found out she didn’t truly care to know which one it was. 

“Good for her, indeed,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

* * *

From her place in the kitchen, Eileen heard Minerva’s answer with no little trepidation. She’d worried, thankfully in vain, that maybe she wouldn’t understand, that her Gryffindor sense of justice would make her frown at the possibility, and she would be lost to Eileen again, this time for good. When Severus wrote her that day, she took it as a sign, a call to action. She went and did what she should have done all those years ago, when her parents gave her an ultimatum, instead of trying to find her way in the muggle world and getting lost in the process. She got finally got her girl, though neither of them could be called such anymore.

But she couldn’t bring herself to talk about what she’d had to do to be free again. Her only regret was that it had taken her so long to gather the courage to do it, and how much Severus had suffered for her cowardice. She knew he held it against her still, deep down, be he’d turned out a better man than she could have ever hoped for, despite the stumbles and falls along the way. He found it in his heart to stay, and keep trying, and she would be forever grateful.

It would slip, once in a while, her pride at her own cunning. How joyful she’d had been when the police came to her door with the news, the gory details making her heart soar. She didn’t think Minerva would share her enthusiasm.

How she had underestimated her.

Eileen smiled to herself, arranging the warm scones in a chipped plate. Blackberries, fresh from her own bushes, with a dash of lemon. They looked perfect.

Looking at her reflection in the window, she fixed her hair and smoothed the collar of her blouse. She picked up the plates and cutlery, absently thinking if she could convince Minerva into coming back before the next weekend. She could be persuasive. Arms loaded with the food, Eileen went back to the living room, to the lovely sight of the two most important people in her life together, laughing at one childish antic or another.

“So, did your foolish Headmaster wear something exceptionally outrageous this week?”

Severus groaned, hiding his face in his hands, and Minerva laughed. They launched in a very graphic description Dumbledore’s fashion ensembles. She made herself comfortable by Minerva’s side, feeling the warmth of her arm settling across her shoulders.

Life was definitely looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the "end". It's a soft end, as in I could have more idea later, but for now this is it. I'm not marking it as finished yet because I will write a little prequel, just not right now. Thank you so much for your lovely comments, the responses to this fic were beyond anything I could've hoped for!


	5. Chapter 5

After four months holding the position, Marian Henderson, seventh year Hufflepuff, could say with all her surety that being Head Girl was absolutely shite. It was shite and she was _tired_.

Tired of breaking up childish squabbles over Quidditch; tired of having to solve petty issues that the various Prefects couldn’t be arsed to, even though it was in theory their responsibility. Chasing curfew breakers, separating horny couples seemingly attached at the face (and other body parts, by Merlin, so many other body parts), all that on top of studying for her N.E.W.T.s. She couldn’t even find the time to fit in a snog of her own most weeks! Exhausting, and completely thankless, that’s what it was.

The day she finally snapped—as much as her disposition allowed, that is—she told the Prefects to deal with whatever issues arose by themselves for _one fucking night, c’mon, you’re not all imbeciles_ , and not to bother her unless someone was being murdered, and even then, only if the Head Boy was unavailable. 

After a proper make out session with her much neglected boyfriend, Marian, feeling chipper than she had in weeks, tackled her enormous pile of homework and revision papers. Fate seemed to have taken pity on her, the library calm and quiet, and it seemed like she would have a perfect evening. She deserved that. She _did_.

The hours ticked by unbothered, her to-do stack growing smaller and smaller each time she looked. As she picked up her Arithmancy work, she thought maybe she’d be able to finish at least the assignments accumulated over the week and keep them up to date now. She ignored a commotion, not so hushed voices arguing somewhere behind her, hidden among the shelves, and hoped Madam Edevane would return soon from her dinner break, letting the numbers pull her in.

Instead of petering out, the racket got progressively worse. Books clattering around, followed by the dull noise of flesh hitting wood; another sound, this time the dry crack of a skull colliding with the stone floor, and then silence. Marian dropped her head in her hands. She only wanted _one night_.

“You better be fucking dead,” she muttered, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Or I’ll kill the both of you with my bare hands.”

Rounding on the section about Wizarding Sports/XI through XIV centuries, she found the culprits sprawled among their destruction, a few books on quidditch lazily flying over them. Edevane would have a fit over the rolls of parchment currently poking beneath the entangled couple.

“Alright, disentangle right now and _maybe_ I can be persuaded to skip on detentions.”

“Fuck off, Marian,” came the muffled answer from under the curtain of black hair hiding the face of the person underneath, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“McGonagall, what the hell?”

The girl on top raised her head a little, just enough she could see Minerva’s flushed face through the dark hair clinging around them like seaweeds. The Gryffindor’s nose seemed to have taken a bash, sluggishly bleeding and swollen, but she didn’t seem to mind at all, just like she didn’t mind the hand tightly knotted around her braid. Marian looked to the girl still straddling Minerva’s tights, skirts hiked up almost to her knickers, being greeted by angry, button black eyes. _Of fucking course_.

“So this is why you’re always up each other’s throats?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Minerva’s still glassy look. She stayed on the ground a while longer after Prince stood, raising a hand to touch her lips dreamily. “Don’t know what to do with the tension so you beat each other up?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Henderson, that’s what I think,” hissed Prince.

“It is when you destroy half the library trying to snog!” Marian was by no means exceptionally tall or strong, but she still towered over Eileen Prince by about a head. It didn’t mean she felt comfortable taking on the twiggy Slytherin on her own; everyone in the school knew you didn’t mess with Prince unless you wanted a punch to the face. The only one who seemed to have a taste for it was McGonagall, the crazy bitch. “Look, I was already tired of this last year when you cursed each other silly in the middle of the Halloween feast, so what do you say you clean this up and I forget I ever saw you here? I won’t even dock points if you do it _quietly_ , hm, how about that?”

Prince narrowed her eyes, ducking to the side to avoid a stray book, while McGonagall finally picked herself off the ground. She dusted her trousers, pushing the scraggly hair out of her face and looked over to her… What were they even? The Slytherin returned the look before nodding, sullen as sin, as if she were doing Marian a favour.

“Great, this is great,” she answered, “I’ll go back to my homework, you won’t bother me again, and everyone is happy.”

She turned to leave, but thought better. “If I hear one peep, it’s a week’s detention for each of you,” she threatened. Prince just raised an eyebrow, bending to pick a scroll. “Don’t think I won’t, because I will.”

Walking away purposefully without a second glance, Marian grabbed her books and moved to a table as far away from them as possible. Being Head Girl was absolutely bollocks.

* * *

As she watched the Head Girl stomping away, Minerva released the breath she’d been holding, slumping against the nearest shelf. Her lips still felt tingly from Eileen’s fierce kissing as she dragged her fingers over them again, the strange fluttering in her stomach every time she saw the other girl suddenly making a whole lot of sense. Well, more sense than bothering her until she snapped ever did at least.

Sighing, she dropped her head back, just to wince when it touched the wood. Reaching back with her hand, she felt around her sensitive scalp, prickling where the strands had been pulled on too roughly, until she found the start of a sizeable goose egg forming where she’d knocked her noggin against the floor. _Ouch_.

“You didn’t need to throw me down that hard,” she complained towards the girl stacking books on the floor. Eileen had never been very good at Charms. “Or headbutt my nose,” she continued. “I think it’s broken.”

“I can Episkey it for you,” said Eileen. “I just don’t guarantee it’ll come out right.”

The offer was meant to be refused, she knew that. It was no secret that most of her own house thought Eileen somewhat of a failure as a witch for not managing to perform well in more than a few classes. If they watched her as closely as Minerva did, they’d know she would be one of the best in their year at Herbology and Defense, and certainly the best at Potions if she bothered; she was just not very interested.

“Alright then,” she answered. “Fire it up.”

Eileen dropped the parchment she was holding, looking at her in puzzlement. Minerva nodded and closed her eyes, feeling the spell washing over her face at Eileen’s soft incantation after a moment's hesitation, the cartilage resetting with a sharp crack. The flesh was tender under her fingertips, but roughly the shape she was used to, earning the Slytherin a smile. She just frowned and went back to placing the books in their right spots.

Minerva sweeped an Accio over their heads, catching the flying books with ease born out of years of quidditch practice. In no time they managed to do a passable job at repairing the damage they wrecked on the corridors, though a careful eye would notice the creases on the parchments, loose pages and cracked spines on the books. Eileen pushed the last tome in place, turning on her heel to leave without a second glance.

“Prince, wait!” called Minerva, suddenly anxious at seeing her go. She didn’t want her to leave like that, to go back to treating her like an annoying pebble in her shoe. “I mean, Eileen, please, wait.”

Eileen stopped without turning to her, heaving a tired sigh that shook her bony shoulders. She took it as a sign to continue.

“I, I kind of enjoyed it. The kissing, I mean.” Tried to continue, that is. Her tongue had never felt so clumsy. “We could do without the smashed nose, but the kissing was nice. And when you were sitting on me?”

She flushed the second the words left her mouth, barely resisting the urge to give herself a goose egg on the forehead to match the one in the back of her head. _You liked her sitting on you, what kind of flirting is that, Minnie, what the fuck._ Eileen looked back at her, a mocking eyebrow arched under the blooming bruise in her forehead from when she headbutted her nose.

 _I hate that smug look, Merlin's balls,_ she thought automatically. _I want to wipe it off her face, I want to kiss her senseless until she can’t breath-_

Alright, that was definitely a different train of thought than she usually had. She cleared her throat, returning the look as steadily as she could. “If you wanted to do it again I'd really like it. If you want to,” she bit her lip, made uncertain by the other girl’s lack of response. “Do you want to?”

Eileen watched her carefully, considering, while she made her disjointed attempt, only to sag against the bookshelf beside her. She rubbed her face tiredly, blowing a breath before turning her eyes upwards, her hair falling around her shoulders.

“I think this is a ridiculous idea,” she muttered, “You hate me.”

“Don’t see how it’s ridiculous, and I don’t hate you,” said Minerva, stepping closer to the other girl. “Do _you_ hate me?”

The look she received said _you’re thick, aren’t you_ , and it made her shiver. “I don’t go around kissing people I hate.” Minerva huffed a laugh, getting closer still.

“Is that a no?”

The Slytherin rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t hate you, bristle-head.”

They were standing close enough now the tips of Minerva’s shoes were just shy of touching Eileen’s. Minerva felt a wave of warmth run through her skin as she noticed her mouth was the same height as the other girl’s forehead, the bruise now sharper than before, and she barely contained the urge to press her lips against it, to kiss it better. To kiss her.

She really wanted to kiss her right now.

“If I kissed you,” she asked, softly, “would you let me, or would you punch me?”

Raising her head, Eileen gave her a wry little smile. “You’ll only know if you try…”

The first touch was tentative, Minerva barely able to believe it was welcome, wanted. A gentle peck on her lips, slightly off center, and a subtle retreat, a silent question. Black eyes watching amused, while a pair of skinny arms circled her waist, pulling her closer; an invitation for more.

Time stretched out like them around each other. One of Eileen’s hands found its way back to her hair, only this time the grip was gentler, unhurried but no less demanding than the sharp hold from their first kiss; the other hand was splayed on the small of her back under her jumper, warm enough to make her melt. When they finally started to untwine, Minerva gave into her earlier wish and placed a soft peck against Eileen’s forehead, meant to sooth.

“Sappy,” said Eileen, but the teasing was mellowed out, the edges smoothed. Minerva felt proud of herself.

“Maybe,” she answered, “But it feels nice, so why not?”

“Hm.” They stayed around each other a little longer, Eileen’s chin against her shoulder, before she spoke again. “Edevane will be around anytime now. Don’t fancy getting caught near that South Asian Magical Board Games in the XIII Century edition.”

Minerva looked over her shoulder to said book, just in time to see the spine fall off. “You’re right,” she winced.

Clothes were straightened, hairs put back in place, in an attempt to make themselves presentable. Nothing could be done about the state of their mouths but somehow she didn’t think anyone would dare comment on it. The silence that followed them out of the library, while not precisely uncomfortable, put Minerva on edge again; words kept jumping around in her mind, ways she maybe could convince Eileen to give it a chance. None of them felt right, or enough.

“You know those unused classrooms near the kitchens?”

Her thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt, thrown off by the question. “Yeah, they’re full of junk and old furniture,” she frowned. “What about them?”

“Meet me tomorrow on the third one to the left, counting from the kitchen’s portrait onwards,” answered Eileen, a devious spark dancing in her black eyes. “After dinner.”

“Oh-,” Minerva flushed, and then frowned again. “Why there? There’s plenty other places we could meet.”

“Because, while the second kiss was very nice,” she was conspiratorial now, incensed. “The first one deserves some repeating too, and I don’t think anyone will care if we break a few tables there, hm?”

She then threw a hurried glance over her shoulder, searching for onlookers, before pulling a stunned Minerva down for a fiery, breathless, altogether too _brief_ kiss, leaving her gaping and flushed in the middle of the corridor. She didn’t even wait for an answer, the imp.

Her thoughts came back slowly, wading through a current of syrupy warmth left behind by the Slytherin. Minerva shook herself and started making her way back to the Common Room. The Fat Lady lost her patience after asking her the password five times and receiving no answer, and decided to just let the dizzy girl back instead. Later in her bed, Minerva couldn’t stop grinning at her luck. She’d get the duelling _and_ kissing. What more could a girl want?

* * *

“Those weeks were some of the best I ever had, you know,” Eileen said, head pillowed against her shoulder, hair sticking all around them as if it had a mind of its own. Spinner’s End sat quiet save for the creakings of an old house, Severus having left for night with minimal whinging.

“And you call me sappy,” answered Minerva, too high in her happiness to feel too bitter about the past.

“That’s because you are.” She laughed, receiving a sharp elbow to her ribs. “I still wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t chickened out…”

“We’re here now, love. It’s no use wondering about what ifs, is it?”

“No, you’re right.” The voice was soft, dreamy. “We’re really here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! Just a sappy little chapter to tie things up, because I love these two too much. It's been a blast writing this, truly. Thanks anyone who commented, who left kudos, you guys are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read somewhere about Minera having a certain disdain for gobstones? I can't remember where, but my mind went immediately to Minerva/Eileen, sports rivalry ending in smooches, and from there to how Severus would react to find out about it through a third party. This is the result.


End file.
